


In The Midst Of The Darkness

by Sarina_Hawke_Theirin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Love Triangles, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-06 06:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarina_Hawke_Theirin/pseuds/Sarina_Hawke_Theirin
Summary: With the Horseman of Death and the Mark of Cain gone, Dean has to face the fact that he may have doomed the entire universe. As he waits to be blinked from existence, he finds himself in a strange room full of mirrors that have the power to transport him to other worlds. Unwilling to give up on his brother's survival, he takes the chance and steps through a portal that will lead to a temple and a fate he never saw coming.Story takes place between seasons 10 and 11 of Supernatural





	1. Prologue

Dean Winchester’s chest rose and fell with every heavy breath as he repeatedly tightened and released his right fist. The Mark was gone. Finally. The relief he felt over the loss of the curse’s draw and the pain it caused was immeasurable. At the same time, his guts twisted in knots over what ridding himself of the Mark had done to the world.

He’d spent most of his life trying to save people, but to what end? As inky black clouds rolled over the Impala at gale force speeds, he knew his will to live had most likely cost the universe its very existence. The Darkness had been released, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He slammed his lids shut, awaiting his inevitable demise. Awaiting the unmaking of the world.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. Complete silence filled the air around Dean, and he realized he was standing. Slowly, he opened his eyes only to find himself in a big, black empty. His heart thundered in his chest as he turned in circles, searching for any sign of light or life.

“Sammy?” he called, but his cry was met only with the echo of his own voice in the dark. “Sammy!”

He inhaled a deep breath and held it, listening for the sound of his brother. For anything. Was he dead? Was Sam? Was this the Darkness the Horseman of Death spoke of?

Tears began to spill onto Dean’s cheeks as he fell to his knees. It was over. It was all over and he was alone. Despair took over his mind and body. Despair he’d held onto for years over the loss of everyone he loved. Bobby, Lisa and Ben, his parents, now Sam and Cass.

He wept for Jo and Ellen, for Charlie, for Kevin. For all those who lost their lives because of him. He may as well have killed them all himself. As he continued choking on gut wrenching sobs, despair began to give way to anger.

No! The universe owed him. God, wherever that bastard was, _owed_ him and his brother. He wasn’t about to just let it end like that. He and Sam had sacrificed too much of their lives for the sake of everyone else to give up now.

“Sam!” he screamed as he rose to his feet. “Sammy! Answer me!”

Wherever he was, there was solid ground beneath his feet. Which meant he was standing on something. And something meant not everything had been destroyed.

He started to walk, calling out for his brother every few minutes. Sooner or later, he’d find his way out, but it would be a damned site easier to find the exit if he had some light.

His phone. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell and pushed the home button, praying it had enough charge so he could see at least a portion of his surroundings.

The light turned on long enough to catch a glint to his left before the damned thing went dead. After pushing the button several more times to no avail, Dean shoved it back into his pocket with a growl.

“Fuck!”

He didn’t get a chance to see much of anything, but something reflected in his phone’s illumination. Turning to his left, he reached out with both hands and walked toward the source of the phenomenon. After several steps, his right hand landed on what felt like solid wood.

Exhaling a protracted breath, Dean inched his fingers further to the right to find cold metal or glass. He tapped the surface three times to better gauge what it was, when the tattoo on his chest began to glow and burn. Before he knew it, a track of what he could only describe as molten lava traveled down his arm from the tattoo to his fingertips.

Seething against the pain through gritted teeth, the hunter jerked his hand away from the object but not before its surface began to radiate soft light. The thing looked like some sort of large, ornate mirror, but held no reflection. Instead, the expanse of “glass” moved like living quicksilver over a shallow pan, swirling in haphazard patterns across the façade.

Dean tried to take a step back, but his feet wouldn’t cooperate. The effect of the object was hypnotic, and, as much as everything within him told him to leave the damned thing alone, he just couldn’t. He reached out to touch the surface again, expecting it to burn his fingertips, but was surprised to find it ice cold.

With furrowed brow, he pushed his hand further into the viscous fluid, thinking he’d eventually come to the back of the mirror but it just kept going. He wondered if perhaps he could walk through the thing. Maybe it was like Alice in Wonderland.

In a last-ditch effort to keep him out of more trouble, Dean’s conscience bade him to glance to his left then his right. Although more of the room was revealed, the only thing he found was more mirrors like the one in front of him, but with varying decoration and sizes. Sam could be anywhere, through any one of those damned mirrors. On the other hand, he had to start somewhere.

_May as well stick with this one. I just hope that damned caterpillar is willing to share that fucking hookah._

 

 


	2. Waking Up In Thedas

Dean’s head felt as if it would explode when he came to. At least the room was fairly dark with only a few torches along the walls providing minimal light. Even so, he needed to squint to make out any of his surroundings beyond the faint glow of the fires.

There were rusty metal bars enclosing several darkened cells comprising some sort of jail or prison, but the walls fashioned from stone made it look more like a medieval dungeon. He shivered, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold damp air or the sensation of dread trailing up his spine.

Frustrated with his situation, the hunter tried to move his hand to the back of his neck, intending to ease some of the tension in his muscles, but found his wrists bound by a device straight out of Moondoor. He struggled against the thick iron bar across his lap in an attempt to free his wrists but to no avail. Suddenly, a loud pop echoed throughout the room followed by sizzling and crackling like a downed power line hit the hood of a car before burning pain shot up his left arm from his hand to his shoulder.

Blind with agony, he slammed his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing. The room continued to reverberate with hisses and sputters, but they steadily grew quieter as Dean stilled his mind. When the pain had all but subsided completely, he blinked several times to find a faint green glow emanating from the vicinity of his knees.

The hunter’s heart skipped several beats upon peering down to find the palm of his left hand radiating a small, bright green lightning storm. He gulped past the knot in his throat, trying to swallow back the panic and bile making its way to the surface. 

_Where the fuck am I?_

The wooden door several feet in front of him crashed open revealing several armored men followed by two women. The soldiers split ranks to surround him at different positions of the room. The woman donning a hooded tunic stood off to the side and crossed her arms, while the dark-haired one wearing a black and silver chestplate with a sword at her hip walked circles around Dean like a vulture awaiting the death of its prey.

After enduring a few minutes of her intimidation tactics, the hunter finally settled his gaze on the door ahead in silence. He didn’t care who these people were. He wasn’t telling them a damned thing.

If it weren’t for his aching arm and the green glow he saw earlier, he would have thought he was in the middle of some sort of LARPing weekend. Maybe somebody injected him with some sort of poison while he was unconscious, and he was hallucinating. Maybe he was in a coma. Or, maybe he was under the spell of a Jin and Charlie would come bursting through the door in her Moondoor queen’s attire any minute to rescue him.

Any number of things could explain his whereabouts and his situation. The sick gnawing in the pit of his stomach, however, told him that his present circumstances had nothing to do with anything he’d ever experienced or heard of before. The armored woman stopped at his left side, bent down, and seethed in his ear.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

Dean’s kept his mouth shut as he continued to watch the door through narrowed lids. The dark-haired woman straightened her back to walk a tighter circle around his position before she renewed her interrogation.

“The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” She halted to glare at him. “Except for you.”

He ran his tongue over his lips before smacking them together in defiance, eyes ever forward. He couldn’t remember a damned thing after stepping through that mirror, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He’d been accused of murder far too many times to know it was better to just keep his trap shut.

She grabbed the metal cuff over his left wrist then shoved it toward his face. As she did, the lightning renewed, forcing him to wince in pain. “Explain _this_ ,” she hissed before shoving it back into his lap.

When the crackling stopped, Dean tightened and released a fist several times, but remained vigilant in his reticence. A frustrated growl emerged from the woman’s chest as she snatched the hunter’s collar and gave it a tremendous jerk, sending Dean’s head whipping back so far, he thought his neck might snap.

“Answer me, you bastard!”

The hooded woman stepped into the light. Even as doom loomed over him, the hunter couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. Beautiful and deadly. Her pale skin, thick lips, and auburn hair did nothing to hide the death she’d seen and caused in her crystal blue eyes. She may not have been the one interrogating him, but she was certainly the most dangerous of the two women.

She gripped the dark-haired woman’s wrist. Her tone remained calm and quiet. “No. We need him, Cassandra.”

Cassandra took several steps back as the red-head addressed Dean directly. He was surprised to discern a French accent when she spoke. Maybe he wasn’t as far away from home as he first thought.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked. “How this began?”

There _was_ something after he stepped through that mirror, but he figured it was a dream. It had to be. The entire thing was a little too close to his escape from Purgatory not to be a residual release of a living nightmare while he was unconscious.

In the dream, he saw an alien-looking woman made of golden light standing at the top of a giant staircase. As he climbed the steps toward her, giant, spiderlike creatures began chasing him. Alone and with his weapons gone, he decided to run. But the damned things were quick. The monsters nearly overtook him when he finally made it to the top, but the “woman” reached out and took his hand to pull him out of danger.

Dean had seen a lot of shit in his day, but never anything like that, and he was sure the women standing in front of him didn’t care about any damned dream he had. But, since it was the only thing he remembered, he thought he’d fuck with them a bit.  

“There was this chick…”

“Chick?” the redhead interrupted, her brow furrowed in confusion. “There was a chicken?”

Dean’s face twisted in annoyance. “No. A chick.” When the hooded woman still looked confused, the hunter emitted a long sigh. “You know, a broad. A dame. A woman?”

She rubbed her chin between her fingertips. “A woman? Could it be?”

Cassandra stepped between them. “I think we should take him to the rift. Why don’t you go to the forward camp, Leliana? I’ll collect him and meet you there.”

“Of course,” the redhead replied with a curt bow.

Dean couldn’t help but wonder why this Leliana wasn’t the one in charge. Then again, she wasn’t wearing a uniform like Cassandra. Perhaps a civilian consultant of some sort?

Most of the fire had gone out of Cassandra’s eyes as she unlocked the cuffs around the hunter’s wrists. Apparently, he said something right when he mentioned the woman, but he had no clue why or what it could have meant.

The pleat of Cassandra’s brow bespoke worry as she exchanged the iron bar for a pair of heavy manacles. As much as he knew he should keep quiet, his curiosity got the better of him.

“So what happened?” he asked.

She pulled him up by the chain between the cuffs and heaved a sigh. “It would be easier just to show you.”


End file.
